Scream For Me, Gorgeous
by Lady Hero of Lorien
Summary: Long ago, Griffin had walked into Jumper Victoire's life to save her only to walk out again, abandoning her. Years later, they meet again. Both are in pursuit of Roland Cox but the animosity and competition between the two prevents them from coming together to finish him off. This is the story of how two twisted souls became linked through hate and necessity.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Eva had been rejected by him years ago when she met him in a fight against the Paladins when she was only sixteen years of age. All she knew about him was that he was an amazing fighter who had saved her life. After the particularly gruesome fight, the Paladins ended up unconscious or badly beaten with what appeared to be several broken bones judging by the oddly bent joints. Those were the lucky ones. Many had ended up dead. Griffin had single-handedly seen to that. She had begged him to teach her how to defend herself before she wound up dead; pleaded that he should teach her. He had sized her up and flat out refused.

"Wait!" Eva cried as her saviour in the leather jacket turned to walk away, "What's your name?"

"Griffin," he called over his shoulder, adding, "And I don't want you to hear you using it."

"But you can show me how to stand up and fight! The more Paladins I hurt would be less for you to worry about!" Eva protested weakly.

"You're too young, too scrawny and you'll only end up dead faster by trying to fight instead of running away. You wouldn't be able to kill someone anyways. Do yourself a favour and _go home,_" Griffin said in his heavy English accent while walking away. Eva ran after him.

"I don't have a home to go to!" she cried, feeling the familiar prickling of oncoming tears. Her parents had been killed when they had tried to protect her. All of her closest friends had succumbed to the same fate. She hated this curse with a passion. Jumping had lost its appeal when she realized everybody she loved and cared for had died shortly after she discovered her gift. Griffin kept walking.

"Why can't I come with you?" she tried again.

"Why do you keep following me?" Griffin growled and sped up, "I told you to go away!"

"I have nowhere to go," Eva said quietly, tears starting to fall from her eyes. She felt despair and hopelessness coming.

Griffin paused and turned around. Hope suddenly filled Eva's chest and she clung to it like a life preserver.

"You'll only slow me down and get in the way. I'm busy and I don't have time for you," the fighter told her coldly.

"But you saved my life! Can't I repay the favour?"

"You can't save me, sweetheart," he gave a derisive laugh and Jumped away. Eva seemed to deflate. She crumpled to the sidewalk and the flood of tears flowed freely.

That had been years ago but the despair she had felt quickly turned into a fierce fire of hatred. She hated him from that day on. The way he had dismissed her and left her to fend for herself was pretty much a death sentence. She despised herself as she thought back on that night, yet she smiled – albeit a cold one – and remembered how weak she had been to cry. She hadn't cried since that night eight years ago. She was twenty four years old now and stronger, both emotionally and physically, than she had ever been in her life. She had found other, kinder Jumpers who had taught her self-defence and how to fight. For eight long years she had sought out others like her who taught her all they could. Once she had learnt and mastered what they knew, she moved on to gain more experience from any source she could. But mainly, she had been looking for another Jumper. A Jumper by the name of Griffin.

She had become a whole new person. Eva no longer existed. From her ashes had risen Victoire: a tough-as-nails warrior who had learnt to injure and kill Paladins; a skilled woman who had decidedly long ago forgotten her feelings of compassion and love and replaced them with coldness and hate.

Griffin had been watching the Paladins as he always did; tracking, following, and killing. He was interested in their tactics and their movements. He considered it his duty to exterminate these murderers just as they considered it their duty to kill Jumpers.

He sat at his paper-covered work space in his lair, putting together the most recent information on the whereabouts of Roland when he came across a name: Victoire. She didn't have a last name. He didn't recognize it but as he sifted through more and more information, the name came up more and more often in association with Paladin deaths. The coroner's reports he had gained by hacking described gruesome deaths; often with signs of torture. Griffin decided to take a break from Roland and look up this Victoire. He discovered that she was the second most hunted Jumper after himself which surprised him considering she had only surfaced relatively recently. Despite having been on the radar for only eight years, she had already racked up hundreds of Paladin deaths. Griffin was deeply impressed and wondered how he had not yet heard of her. Her name seemed oddly fitting: Victoire meant victory in French.

He came across a picture of Victoire that must have been taken while she was being held captive in an unknown location (the picture resembled a mug shot and he had no idea how she could have escaped from a Paladin cell). He couldn't deny that she was attractive and thought that that might act as a tactical advantage in luring Paladins to their unsuspecting deaths as most of them were men. Griffin knew that her full lips, high cheekbones and long black hair could definitely drive a man to distraction. Though her features were striking, it was her dark eyes that captivated him. They were eerily cold and devoid of any emotion. Her eyes seemed to burn into his even through the picture. Her gaze was one full of revenge and desired retribution. She seemed vaguely familiar but it could have been that her eyes mirrored the look in his own.

Had this Victoire character been through everything he had? If she was such a ruthless killer and if she often came into contact with the Paladins, it was a reasonable assumption that she might have some information on Roland. He decided that if they ever crossed paths, he just might stop and have a chat with her about the Paladin.

Victoire was walking down an alley, looking for a fight. She'd had a particularly hard day: she had ripped her favourite leather jacket on a barbed-wire fence (a style she borrowed from her brief encounter with Griffin) and had had to go steal another with the store owner almost catching her. The new jacket felt stiff and uncomfortable and she knew it would take a while to break it in. To add to this loss, her hide-out had been discovered by Paladins. She had been sleeping in a "borrowed" apartment ("house-sitting" as she called it) when the door had been blown off and a dozen Paladins had streamed in. She had been able to take down about eight of them, killing at least four for sure, snapping their neck in the easiest, cleanest way, before Jumping away to Burma, Vancouver, Venice and winding up in the South of England in an attempt to elude them. It had worked and she waited until dark to do her hunting. She regretted not having the time to have some fun with the Paladins before killing them. It was always more fun when they begged for death.

In the alley, she walked slowly, deliberately, trying to attract the notice of any Paladins that might be lurking, Jumping more than was necessary. Luring them in was just too easy. They always arrived thinking that fighting a woman would be a piece of cake not knowing that she was one of the most dangerous Jumpers still alive.

She turned into a still darker alley and heard the sounds of a scuffle. Even if there were no Paladins involved she could at least join in this skirmish just to punch something. She quickened her pace and arrived at the scene of a fight. There was no doubt that this was Paladins versus Jumpers. Correction, there seemed to be only one Jumper terribly outnumbered by Paladins. She moved to a jog to join the fray, dodging, ducking and weaving away from the electric devices the Paladins loved so much. She aimed several well-placed roundhouse kicks to one of the enemy and knocked him out cold before chancing a glance at the other Jumper. Victoire was happy that he seemed to have no qualms about harming the Paladins either. Weak Jumpers disgusted her; sympathy in a Jumper led to an early grave. Victoire noticed that despite his short stature he was extremely fast and deadly. Once the Paladins were all lying around unconscious or dead, the man turned to look at Victoire.

As their gaze met, they recognized each other at once. Griffin grinned, pleased to have finally met the girl from the picture while Victoire's cold eyes looked back, clearly displeased. Griffin's grin never faltered at her unwavering stare.

"Great fighting there," he stated. The compliment felt foreign to his ears but he figured that a semblance of civility would get him off to a good start. Victoire said nothing but intensified her piercing stare.

"I'm Griffin," he continued, "You're Victoire, aren't you?" She simply nodded stiffly. A long, uncomfortable silence ensued. Victoire busied herself by unceremoniously ending the lives of the unconscious Paladins. She nudged the body of one and he groaned. Victoire rapidly turned the body into a corpse by crushing his windpipe with her boot.

"So, I had been hoping to run into you..." he trailed off annoyed, clearly bothered by her lack of response. He didn't like being ignored.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" she finally looked up at him, speaking in a cold and clear voice.

"Of course I do, you're the second most wanted Jumper in the world," he responded with something close to respect, "Second only to me," he added cockily.

"No. I met you years ago. Do you remember turning down a sixteen year old girl's need for help? She needed somebody to teach her to fight and you refused her. It was only a chance encounter with another Jumper that saved her life." Still, no glint of recognition showed in Griffin's eyes.

"I think I would have remembered you," he smirked. Victoire wasn't completely devoid of primal emotions and noticed that he was indeed more attractive than she remembered and this bothered her considerably. She was supposed to hate him and want him dead; finding him visually appealing angered her to no end.

Before her resolve wavered, she walked closer in a seductive manner as Griffin's smirk spread wider. When she got within arm's reach, she pulled back her right fist and served him a right hook. He staggered back, grabbing his jaw.

"What the bloody hell was that for?!" he shouted.

"You deserted me in my time of need! And now I'm strong enough to kick your ass," she spoke dangerously. Faster than lightning she moved in and kicked him in the stomach. She heard the wind leave his lungs as he doubled over. She edged nearer.

Without warning, he struck back with a quick succession of punches that narrowly missed her face. However, his Jumping combined with his attack was something Victoire had not encountered before and the following onslaught of kicks and punches caught her off guard as many hit their mark. She growled in pain and anger as she began Jumping as well. Both trying to gain the upper hand over the other was not working as punches flew in every direction and their bodies turned to blurs from the speed with which they fought. After several minutes, Griffin had pinned Victoire to the ground, his knee on her stomach and her arms stuck behind her. They were both panting but Griffin had an incredibly smug smile on his face that irked Victoire to no end.

"I still don't remember you, sweetheart," he said, "But I'm glad I know you now."

"You don't know a thing about me," Victoire hissed. She struggled to get free but her movements were terribly restricted and bore little results. Her temper flared again and she managed to free one arm and swing it in an uppercut as Griffin's head whipped back. She used this to free herself from his grip and Jumped a good distance away.

"I despise you," she stated.

"That's funny, 'cause I like you," he shrugged casually, "And I don't like many people. You should feel honoured."

Victoire narrowed her eyes in a vicious glare.

"We'd make a good team, you and I," he continued. She turned to walk away when she heard him call: "Hey. Hey! Have you ever read Marvel Team-Up?" just before she Jumped away.

* * *

**A/N: Hey there! Just popping in to ask if you would be so kind as to drop me a word about how I'm doing! Are you liking the story? Are you not? At any rate, I hope you enjoy it! It's my first foray into the world of Jumper and let's face it: Griffin was the highlight of the movie.**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Despite Griffin's best efforts to track her after their first encounter, her Jumps were so few and far between that he had difficulty following her locations. Not only did her elusive behaviour bother him but he was infinitely more troubled that he couldn't forget about her. Griffin had no idea as to why he wanted her company. He was a lone wolf. He didn't play well with others. He worked better alone. And yet... He kept imagining what fighting at her side would be like and of the sheer number of dead Paladins they would rack up. He had lived alone for so long that the thought of a team seemed almost foreign. Of course, there was the time he had joined David Rice and that hadn't turned out well at all: he was stuck in that tower for weeks, not to mention the sunburn. But he was sure that this team up with Victoire wouldn't be a failure as she was such a talented fighter who didn't need babysitting and didn't seem driven by impulsiveness and an absurd need to protect anybody but herself. To his surprise, he noticed that his board full of pictures and sketches of Roland was becoming more and more cluttered by images of Victoire.

Victoire was having much of the same thoughts. She considered a team-up with Griffin. After having fought him, she had had a revelation. She blamed him for what she had become. She had turned into him; from the manic fighting that ruled her every waking moment, to the cold-hearted ruthless attitude, right down to the leather jacket she sported. Victoire realized that her hatred and dislike towards this man with whom she shared this isolated existence was becoming mixed with curiosity. She had learned a bit of tracking from some Jumpers in Tokyo and every now and then, she would see where Griffin was and try and find out what he was up to (although hunting Paladins was almost always the case). She did notice that he seemed to return to the South of England quite often where they had met. Victoire wondered if she had been imagining it. She tried to shift her focus from Griffin to other Paladins but somehow, he was able to wriggle his way into her mind more often than she was comfortable with. She still hadn't forgiven him for making her a killer, yet part of her wanted to thank him for making her stronger.

Victoire had been looking for a nice cottage to squat in near the wilds of Aspen, Colorado when she came across Roland Cox for the first time. She had been walking leisurely through the lush forest of firs and pines, casually looking into the sparse cottages she came across to see if they were vacant and if they were sumptuously furnished. She liked her luxuries. She came to an abrupt halt as a black man with white hair stepped suddenly around the corner of the nearest cottage. She eyed him, trying to assess whether he was another Jumper, a Paladin or maybe just the owner of the cottage. Before she could make up her mind, he spoke: "Jump here often?" So he was either a Jumper or a Paladin. She noted that he didn't wear the classic trench coat she so often saw the others wearing. It was such a giveaway.

"Do you?" Victoire asked in return careful to not let him back her up against a wall of the cottage or a tree.

"My first time here," the man replied, all affability, "I've never been here before but I've heard enough about it and thought I'd check it out."

It was then that Victoire knew he was no Jumper. You couldn't Jump to a place you'd never been to before or at least seen with your own eyes. Just looking at a picture wasn't enough either. Time and space was a static landscape in a picture and the fabric of time was always fluid: the two couldn't coexist. _So he's a Paladin_, Victoire concluded.

"And how are you finding it so far?" Victoire asked, playing along.

"It's lovely. Just look at that view," he gestured to the mountains that rose up beyond the trees. As if she was going to turn her head away from him.

Tired of wasting time, Victoire decided to Jump at him. She knocked him to the ground hard and pinned him down. Just as she went to draw her concealed dagger from her boot, she felt intense heat and pain sear through her thigh. She looked down to see the man had plunged a hunting knife through her leg. He took advantage of her stunned state and flung her off of him and into a nearby tree. Victoire shook her head to clear it after the impact with the tree trunk and opted to leave the knife in her leg. Pulling it out might sever an artery and cause her to bleed to death. She went to stand to ready herself for fighting but the pain was too great to put any weight on the injured leg.

Victoire let the pain take over as it caused her to focus on the Paladin. She Jumped at him again, this time with her dagger in hand and slashed at his midsection. He dodged out of the way and unstable as she was on one leg, her momentum caused her to fall into the branches of the tree behind him. She heard him laugh. She Jumped at him again, this time clinging to his jacket for balance while her other hand wielding the blade embedded itself in his shoulder. His hand found the knife in her thigh and he twisted the handle. The pain seared her and she made an involuntary Jump away from him with the knife still in her leg. She also still had her dagger.

The Jumper couldn't understand how this one Paladin was managing to best her. She had faced multiple Paladins before and they hadn't even caused her concern. She also realized how this man didn't use the electric devices favoured by the others of his kind. _He's more the 'hands-on' type_, Victoire realized. _He likes to get his hands dirty._ Fueled with rage, she flew at his neck as he grabbed her wrists and bent them backwards. Not enough to break them but definitely enough to cause her to drop her weapon. He flipped her over so that she was on her back.

Pinned to the ground, the man asked her, "Would you like to know how I killed your parents, little Eva?"

Victoire froze at the sentence and the sound of the name her parents had given her. The man smiled malevolently.

"You were sixteen when we found you. I'm really quite amazed you lasted that long. Most Jumpers are found far earlier. But your parents were careful, weren't they? Not letting you Jump if they could help it, moving you from town to town, trying to hide you. They should have known that the wrath of God would descend upon you. The unholy always get their comeuppance. I sent your wretched parents to Hell and that's where I'll be sending you. But before you go, just know that Roland Cox was the one to send you there."

At that, he placed his hands around Victoire's neck and pressed his thumbs into her windpipe. She looked into Roland's cold, dead eyes. Soon enough spots danced before her eyes and she couldn't even muster the concentration to Jump anywhere. Not even a few feet away. Her vision was going dark around the edges when she thought she heard her parents. She would see them at last. She closed her eyes and waited. Suddenly, she felt the pressure leave her as the voices got louder. Soon, hands were softly shaking her. Victoire knew it was her mother waking her the way she used to when it was time to go to school. Back when her life had been so simple. She eagerly opened her eyes, longing to see her mother's beautiful smile and loving eyes. To her immense disappointment, she saw a woman who was definitely not her mother though this woman's eyes were no less kind. They were also alarmed.

"Call an ambulance!" she yelled at the man who was crouching over her as well. The man pulled out a cell phone and dialed. He spoke frantically to the dispatcher on the other end. It was then that Victoire noticed how raw her throat felt as the woman told her not to move. The Jumper ignored the woman and sat up anyways. She gazed down at the knife protruding from her leg without really seeing it. She looked around sluggishly, taking deep rasping breaths. She couldn't believe how crushingly disappointed she felt to not have seen her parents. Roland had promised her she'd see them! At least with her death, she would be with them again. Even if they were in Hell, Victoire would have been satisfied to just be where they were. Instead, she had been brought back to life. It was a life she didn't want, a life where she was alone. Always alone. She was so tired of it; tired of fighting for her life. Why hadn't she been allowed to die? She had been ready for it, had welcomed it. Now even the luxury of death had been denied her.

She was taken to a hospital under a false name and her leg was looked after. She kept the knife, telling the doctors that it was a hunting accident. She figured Roland had run off when the couple had approached. On her hospital bed she was told that the couple that had found her had been the ones to own the nearby cottage. They had even come to visit her, bringing her some flowers, and she thanked them the way she knew she should. The way her parents would have wanted her too, when all she wanted was to lash out at them for ripping her away from a never-ending sleep.

She eventually healed and left the hospital without being discharged. She kept a very low profile while her leg healed completely, leaving her with a lovely, angry red scar to remind her how she, to her chagrin, had narrowly missed out on death.

Victoire vowed to kill Roland Cox. Kill him for taking her family from her and for not even granting her the mercy of dying. She would take his knife and make him beg for death before the end.

*********

It was many months before Victoire and Griffin met up again. They were both tracking Roland's movements and had discovered that he was hunting Jumpers in the rainforests of South America. Victoire had been on high alert while silently making her way through the underbrush, fantasizing about all the ways she was going to make him suffer. She heard a twig crack behind her and a rustling of some ferns. She quickly spun around, ready to fight, but neither saw nor heard anything but the mottled green light filtering through the foliage and exotic bird calls. As she turned back around to keep going, a man appeared before her and her arm recoiled and punched him in the face on instinct. The man hit the ground swearing, clutching his bleeding nose. Victoire noticed he was wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket.

"Sorry," she apologized before she could stop herself (sixteen years of being taught manners was not easily forgot, no matter how hard she tried), realizing she had hit Griffin. "But you know you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that." She made no move to help him up.

"Did you miss me?" he asked cautiously, testing the water, wiping the blood from his face.

"Not nearly. I had even forgotten of your existence," she told him with a one-shouldered shrug, aloof. It was the truth. She hadn't thought about him at all, what with the all-consuming hatred she had been harbouring for months after her little rendezvous with Mr. Cox. Now that Griffin was before her, she felt conflicted at his appearance. She despised him but she had to admit that she hadn't looked forward to facing Roland alone. Her embarrassment at having been beaten by him at their last encounter simmered just below the surface. She was also troubled by the fact that she could no longer deny she was indeed physically attracted to the rogue Jumper standing before her.

Griffin got up, dusted himself off and tried to staunch the bleeding with the sleeve of his jacket. He smiled tentatively and when she returned it – albeit with a frosty edge – he switched to a more self-assured personality.

"So. Come to like me, yeah?" he swaggered.

"Don't go getting conceited. I've come to merely accept your existence," she retorted.

"Fair enough," he conceded. He couldn't really ask for more than that. They continued to slowly pick their way further into the moist and muggy air of the rainforest.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, eyes narrowing at him.

"Looking for Roland Cox," he told her. That was partly true. When he discovered that not only was Roland in the jungle but that Victoire was as well, it was an opportunity not to be passed up. His time with her had been so short and now that he saw her again, it was as if the small spark he felt when he first met her had been rekindled. She just oozed confidence and danger and it was an immediate turn-on.

As Victoire ducked her head away from a low-hanging vine she vaguely recalled a Marvel Team-Up offer. She bit her lip, prompting Griffin to look at her alluring lips. She noticed him looking but said nothing. So long as he kept his hands to himself she wouldn't have to deck him. Did she dare take him up on his offer? A team was decidedly not her thing. She had no idea how to fight in a group and it was always risky. You had to trust the other person with your life. She didn't do trust.

She remembered how Roland had beaten her in Aspen as she felt the scar on her thigh through her pant leg and resolved to never let it happen again.

"Does your Marvel Team-Up offer still stand?" she asked him grudgingly.

He looked back into her eyes. "If you want it to," Griffin said, holding his breath.

"Then I accept," Victoire affirmed as Griffin visibly relaxed. "But _only _when we're looking for Roland and this still doesn't mean I've forgiven you for making me a monster."

He nodded but quirked an eyebrow. "What have you got against Roland?"

"Oh, you know, killed my family, didn't even have the decency to kill me too," Victoire brushed past Griffin. Griffin totally understood but said nothing, opting to follow the woman.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Victoire and Griffin began scouring the jungle for any trace of the white haired Paladin known as Roland Cox. Griffin would steal furtive glances at Victoire when he thought she wasn't looking. He marvelled at her almost feline grace as she navigated the dense underbrush. He noticed the way her lithe body moved rapidly while remaining silent. Her approach to fighting was based on stealth and agility while his was more of a head-on affaire. Barging in on Paladins and offing them with a flame-thrower had always worked for him so he had never thought of modifying it. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, as the saying went. He noticed how her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed in concentration as she hunted. Yes, definitely like a predator: the huntress instead of the hunted. A thing of beauty.

"You know, staring at me won't help us discover Roland's location," she snapped suddenly in a harsh whisper while turning to face him. Griffin was busted.

"Oh, get over yourself. I wasn't staring," he snapped back to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh really?" Victoire bit with heavy sarcasm. She saw Griffin roll his eyes. "It would also help if you didn't stomp around breaking branches and making such a racket. If I recall correctly, that's how you got punched in the nose," she smirked.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," he bit.

"Well do you want my help or not?" Victoire asked in a clipped tone.

"I don't need help," he sneered, his reply an automatic one.

"So first you follow me around, begging for my help, and now you don't want it," she clarified. Griffin ignored her snide comment.

"It's getting dark. Maybe we should look for a shelter for the night," Griffin remarked.

"Why don't we just Jump somewhere safe?" she asked, not without a hint of worry in her tone that she hoped Griffin wouldn't catch. To her dissatisfaction, he did and smirked.

"What, not afraid of the dark, are you sweetheart?" he jeered.

"Not in the least," she lied, this time keeping her voice even. Ever since she had gone on the run from the Paladins, she had been frightened by the absence of light. She could see an attacker in the light. She could fight back. In the dark, she felt vulnerable and horribly alone. At night, she always made sure to keep a light on nearby. She hadn't noticed she'd been biting her lip when Griffin remarked:

"Are you trying to chew your lip off or what? I think I know some caves near here." She followed him wordlessly, hoping that they wouldn't find any caves and they'd have to Jump elsewhere.

"As usual, I was right. Home sweet home," Griffin called cheerily as they came to the mouth of an ominous looking cave. Victoire glared at the Brit and gestured for him to go first adding a "ladies first" with a deceivingly angelic smile. Griffin huffed and rifled around his pockets until he pulled out a lighter and stepped inside. Victoire hoped he'd fall into an obscure pit and stay there. Of course, being a Jumper, he could Jump out just as easily but hopefully he'd break an ankle on the way down.

"Are you coming or are you planning on sleeping on the ground out there?" a disembodied voice floated out of the cave. Victoire entered the cave, hesitant. She could see the flicker of Griffin's lighter so she walked towards it. In the glow of the small flame, they found a suitably dry and flat area where they could stay for the night.

"I'll go get some wood so we can get a fire going," Victoire quickly volunteered, happy to get away from the vast darkness that pressed against their tiny circle of light provided by the lighter. As she gathered uselessly damp firewood, she thought about this whole situation. She didn't have to be here. She could just Jump away right then and leave him. Griffin annoyed her to no end: his clumsy way of tramping through the jungle, his infuriating smirks, and that insufferable confidence. She wondered about his past. What his life had been like before his first Jump. Had it been as happy as hers? Had he lost as much as she had? She had a feeling that he had. Both of their eyes held coldness and the ever-present glint of revenge. She had to admit, he intrigued her. She had never come across any Jumper quite like him.

He always acted as if he was alone by choice. Every single Jumper she had met had formed some alliance with other Jumpers. There was a kind of underground network out there. Not that she was part of it. True, it's how she had found other Jumpers to learn from but she had always preferred to go it alone. Others would only get in the way of her revenge. Most Jumpers just wanted to stay alive and exist in peace. These were bad times to be a pacifist. She and Griffin were united by the mutual desire to go down fighting.

After gathering what firewood she could find that wasn't completely waterlogged – it was a rainforest, after all – Victoire dumped the wood on the floor of the cave and watched as Griffin set the wood alight after a good bit of cursing. She watched as the flames cast shadows along the roof of the cave and created strange shapes that set her on edge. She didn't think she'd catch a wink of sleep that night. They sat next to each other and as close to the warmth of the fire as possible with foreign sounds coming from the creatures outside.

"So what's your story?" Victoire asked out of genuine curiosity and as a distraction from the flickering shadows.

"There's not much to tell really. I was five when I first Jumped. Everyone around me got murdered four years later. End of story." She could tell his past was a touchy subject.

"You were _five_?" she remarked gently. He stayed silent for a moment.

"What about you? I mean, I know about you from the Paladin files but I don't know the rest of your story," he asked, deflecting the attention to her.

"You 'know about me from the Paladin files'?" Victoire quirked an eyebrow at him. "What are you, my stalker?" she chuckled, the sound echoing into the depths of the cave.

Griffin shrugged, glad that the relative darkness hid the heat that he felt rising to his face. "I do my research."

"Well, you already know about saving Eva when she was 16 –"

"Who's Eva?" he cut her off.

"Eva became Victoire," she spoke with a detached air, not meeting his gaze. "I travelled around the world learning everything I could about self-defence. And then I went on a rampage, finding and killing every Paladin I could," she stated. "Roland found me and tried to kill me but was interrupted and now I'm looking forward to slashing up his face and sending him to Hell." She paused. "I suppose I have you to thank for this," she gestured to herself with bitterness in her tone.

"Me? What did I do?" he looked confused, "I met you once when you were a teenager..."

"Yes, and you left me there to _die_, defenceless against skilled killers," she seethed.

"Look, I wasn't going to take care of you. I couldn't, even if I had wanted to. You would have been a liability," he justified.

"Is that what lets you sleep at night? How many other Jumpers have you abandoned to die?" Victoire was now getting seriously riled up.

"And how many have you saved?" Griffin growled, countering her argument.

"Fuck you! I almost never even had the _chance_ to save anybody because _somebody_ saw fit to leave me sitting on a curb beside the charred remains of my parents," Victoire accused.

"Is that what lets _you_ sleep at night?" he echoed her words, "Thinking you're the only one to have a shitty life?" She glared at him.

"And this is why you'll always be alone and unloved," she taunted him.

"I can't get attached, okay? Is that a good enough answer for you?" he bellowed, his voice ringing off into the distance.

"Then why do you want to get involved with me? Your excuse is seriously flawed, Griffin."

He realized that that was the first time she said his name. He liked the way it sounded in her North American accent. In the heated argument, their faces had become only inches apart. He was looking her dead in the eyes, his eyes flicked down to her lips without his consent. She clenched her teeth as she gazed back into his eyes. She licked her lips unconsciously.

"I think we need more wood," she said, getting up and leaving the cave. She had to get away from him. Otherwise she might to something stupid like claw his eyes out or, even worse, attack him with her lips.

Griffin looked over at the pile of wood that was more than enough for the night. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the rough stone of the cave and released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

When she came back to the fire, Griffin looked to be already asleep. She was glad because she had come back empty handed anyways. She had concluded that she probably would have kissed him had she stayed in the cave any longer. The worst part was that she had wanted to but couldn't understand why. She couldn't remember the last time she had been with a man in any kind of capacity. True, she had been a wild child after the death of her parents, throwing herself into dangerous situations with men as if she had a death wish. But she would _not_ allow herself to be pulled into any kind of relationship at this stage in her life.

Maybe if she beat the crap out of him, then she could be free to kiss him. Her forgiveness was not easily earned but his reticence of getting attached had mollified her a bit: she could relate. She sighed and ran a hand through her long black hair. She settled against the wall of the cave, as far away from Griffin as possible. She knew she wouldn't sleep tonight and appointed herself to guard duty as the man slept. His presence, although unconscious, helped her waylay her fears of the dark. Maybe if something attacked it would go for him first.

About halfway through the night Griffin had woken up to see Victoire leaned back against the wall of the cave with her eyes closed. He added more wood to the fire and admired her sleeping figure. She looked much younger with her eyes closed. He supposed he did too. In the small bit of exposed skin between her pants and her shirt, Griffin saw a patch of raw flesh that had just begun to scab over. It looked to be a recent electrical burn; no doubt from a Paladin weapon. He edged closer to her, trying to get a better look. As soon as he had gotten within a meter of her, she had sprung into a crouch and held a dagger to his throat. He Jumped back on instinct.

"What the hell?" he cried in a harsh whisper. Who knew what lay beyond the cave? Victoire sheathed her weapon as soon as she realized that it was only Griffin who had approached her.

"If you keep sneaking up on me, I'm quite liable to kill you one of these days," she informed him, trying to steady her breathing and heart rate. Griffin slowly moved back into the ring of light provided by the fire.

"Why the bloody hell would you pounce on me with a knife anyway?" he demanded.

"Usually it's the Paladins who wake me up," she stated as if it were obvious. She must have fallen asleep after all. The idea surprised her. She must have been more tired than she thought. "And why were you moving towards me anyway?"

"Well, you don't have to go ar-" he was cut off by a rustling sound just outside the cave.

Both their heads whipped around to stare into the pitch black night. It was highly probable that it was a nocturnal animal looking for its next meal. Victoire was hoping it was a Paladin. She needed to release the adrenaline pumping through her after her rude awakening by Griffin. Griffin hoped, more specifically, that it was Roland. After all, Roland had been in this forest not all that long ago and he couldn't Jump back home if he wanted to. He had to be out there somewhere. Humourless grins spread across both their faces in anticipation.

Another rustling sounded closer by. All of a sudden, the cave was lit up by the electrified devices of the Paladins firing all around as the enemy poured in. Victoire was able to dodge a few but got a deep gash in her left calf along with a strong but mercifully brief electric shock from one of the passing projectiles. Griffin was in the same state. He was taking on three Paladins at once, Jumping at an unbelievable rate.

Victoire estimated ten Paladins as she slit one's throat with her dagger. _Nine now, _she thought smugly. She sensed one approach her from behind and she aimed an elbow approximately where the Paladin's face should have been. She connected with the throat instead and she heard a choking sound as she wheeled around. Apparently she had hit the man in the windpipe. As he dropped to his knees, Victoire saw that he wasn't an immediate threat. He could wait. Most of the other Paladins were dead or at least on the way to death.

On the other side of the cave, close to total darkness, she saw Griffin get caught in the electrified wires by the last Paladin standing, the ends embedding themselves in the stone wall of the cave, pinning him in place. As the Paladin that had caught him advanced, she saw him take out another shock stick and started zapping Griffin repeatedly. She could hear sharp intakes of breath from Griffin as the surge of electricity seemed to grow in intensity at every new shock he received. In a blind rage, Victoire hurled her dagger and it lodged itself up to the hilt in the Paladin's back. She raced over, pulled her dagger out and flipped the Paladin on his back and saw he wasn't nearly close to death as the blade of the dagger hadn't hit any vital organs. She glanced at Griffin who seemed quite a bit worse for wear and felt a newfound fire rise in her.

She stood over the injured Paladin and spoke in a voice promising imminent death. "_Scream for me, gorgeous_." Her enemy complied as she plunged her dagger into the man's soft stomach and twisted it roughly. Victoire gave a bone-chilling laugh as she violently wrenched the blade up to the man's rib cage with a grunt, blood spurting on her and the cave walls.

Even after the Paladin had stopped screaming and the blood had stopped flowing, she kept hacking away at his corpse in a rage. She wasn't thinking, she was just _doing_ and it felt good. She only stopped when Griffin lightly kicked her in the ribs.

"Hey! A little help here!" he asked her weakly, still pinned to the wall. Victoire snapped out of her rhythmic stabbing and looked up at him, as if surprised to see him there. She got up, wrapped her hands up in a torn piece of a Paladin's trench coat to protect her hands from the electricity still running through the wires and helped Griffin untangle himself. He looked down at the body and then back up at Victoire warily.

"Do you normally mangle the corpses of your victims?" Griffin asked with no trace of amusement in his tone. He felt worry as he looked at her blood spattered face.

"I... I don't know what happened there..." Victoire seemed shaken as she examined her blood-stained hands. She looked back up at Griffin. "First I saw him torturing you," she felt anger again at the mere memory, "And then I threw my dagger at him. He wasn't quite dead so I had to stab him again..." she trailed off.

"Try about two dozen more times after slicing him open," Griffin added.

"I don't know what that was. Usually I stop once they're dead," she mused more to herself than to him.

Griffin looked around, noticing the lack of a black man with white hair.

"Roland's not here," he said quietly.

Victoire did a quick scan as well. "Better luck next time," she muttered. Looking out of the mouth of the cave she whispered, "Looks like you get to live another day, Mr. Cox."

She wiped her hands on her pants, ran a hand over her face to clear away some excess blood and felt a stab of pain from her left calf as she put her weight on it. She looked down to see a fair amount of blood seeping from the wound she had received earlier.

Griffin noticed it too. "We'd better get ourselves stitched up. C'mon, we'll go back to the lair."

"The lair?" Victoire repeated, a hint of a smile on her face.

"Yes, the lair," Griffin told her with a straight face, "You got a problem with what I call my home?" he added with a bit of a smile this time.

"Not at all," she smirked good-naturedly. Griffin watched as Victoire calmly walked over to a writhing Paladin who was clutching his throat. She knelt almost reverently at his side.

"Do you know where Roland is?" she asked softly. The Paladin gurgled, clearly unable to respond.

"That's what I thought," Victoire nodded and slit his throat. She looked back up at Griffin. "Go on, I'll follow your Jumpscar."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Victoire Jumped and landed in yet another cave. She groaned. This guy liked his caves, apparently.

"What is with you and caves?" she asked Griffin who was rifling through a cabinet, no doubt for a first aid kit. He pulled out a well-worn tin box and walked towards the old dilapidated orange couch.

"I already told you! It's called a _lair_!" he exclaimed, looked annoyed.

"Forgive my mistake," Victoire rolled her eyes at his prickly demeanour, "My powers of observation must have been addled for me to make such a grave error."

Victoire looked around. In a corner sat a table with one chair near a small fridge. She could hear the hum of a generator that powered the lights hanging from hooks in the ceiling. She also took in a couch in front of an entertainment unit of sorts: a TV, a stack of video games and an Xbox were rested on various cinder blocks in lieu of a proper shelving unit. _How like a man_, she smiled to herself, _no sense of taste whatsoever._ At least she picked locations with style. Lastly, she saw a cot with rumpled sheets shoved in a corner with a pile of clothing nearby. She also noted how charred most of the furnishings were. It looked as if there had been a fire. There was still the smell of smoke in the air. She walked over to one of the walls covered in sketches and pictures that looked to be from surveillance tapes. She saw that most were Paladins, judging by the way they were dressed: the bland and tasteless beige trench coat. Some had red X's across them, most likely marking them as dead. She saw a good deal of Roland, feeling anger at seeing his face, and then noticed a sketched face that looked quite like her own. Griffin looked up from the couch where he was stitching a small cut on his forearm. He winced from embarrassment as he saw her look at the numerous pictures of herself that he had drawn. She walked back over to the couch and sat down, getting a sterile wipe out of the well-stocked kit.

"You're good at sketching," she told him.

"Mhmm," Griffin kept his answer noncommittal, keeping his eyes on his finished stitches.

"Any reason why there are so many of me?" she asked rather calmly. Placing two fingers under his chin she turned his face to meet hers as she wiped the bloody gash on his temple, preparing to cover it with a bandage. Griffin looked everywhere but at her face. He fidgeted, knowing why he had so many of her. What could he tell her? The angles of your face are fascinating? I think you're beautiful? She'd probably knee him in the crotch for something like that.

He shrugged in response. "I didn't know if you were an enemy or not," he lied. She seemed to accept the answer. Victoire figured it made sense even though the fact that he must have known she was a Jumper struck her as a discrepancy. Then she thought of how formidable of a weapon a Jumper would be for the Paladins. Of course, they would soon kill the Jumper once they had served their purpose but still...

"Do you have any shorts I could borrow?" she asked Griffin as she shrugged off her jacket. Griffin stared at her torso. It was clad in a plain black leather corset. Victoire caught him staring and rolled her eyes.

"You wear a corset to fight?" Griffin asked incredulously.

"In my defence, this is _not_ for fashion or vanity. This baby is made of tough leather and steel and it keeps everything in, if you catch my drift. It's way better than just a t-shirt," she justified, looking at Griffin's black tee full of rips and tears. She was starting to feel self conscious: a rare event for her. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "I asked if you had any shorts I could borrow!" Griffin shook himself mentally. He tried to quell his instinctual lust. He tore his eyes away from her and hurried over to a pile of clothes, grateful for the chance to shake off the heat he felt. He pulled a pair of boxers out of the pile. They would have to do. He tossed them to her.

"Boxers?" she asked, holding them up.

"At least they're clean," he shrugged.

"And I took you for more of a boxer briefs kind of guy," she mused with a smirk.

"You thought about what kind of underwear I wear?" he smirked right back having caught her. She cursed herself mentally. Busted.

Like Griffin, she just shrugged, "Don't flatter yourself. Turn around," she commanded. He did as he was told and heard the sound of her pants drop to the floor. Holy Hell, this was worse than Paladin torture! He hadn't had any kind of physical relationship with anyone for far too long and being stuck with an extremely attractive female in a relatively enclosed space for any length of time was not helping his case.

"Okay, I'm done." He turned around to see her sitting on the couch, stitching up her calf with difficulty.

"Here," he indicated for her to lay down on her stomach so that he could stitch the back of her leg properly. She complied, resting her head on her folded arms, watching him work.

"You've got a pretty nasty cut on your shoulder too. You'll never be able to reach and I think it's deep enough to need stitches. Want me to get it?" he offered.

She inspected the stitches on her calf and assessed that they were well executed. "Sure, sew me up," she replied. She sat up and shifted her position so as to allow him better access to her injury. He swept her hair over her shoulder, revelling in the feel of his fingers brushing against her somewhat messy hair. How he wanted to see it messed up by some means other than fighting… _Focus, Griffin!_ he scolded himself. She felt the needle pierce her skin for the first stitch just as she felt Griffin's breath on the exposed part of her back. The needle hadn't hurt at all but his breath was a whole other story. She sucked in a sharp, involuntary gasp through clenched teeth. She winced at the sound, glad Griffin couldn't see her face which she was sure was bright red.

"Sorry, I kind of poked you hard with the needle on that first one," Griffin apologized awkwardly.

"No worries, I can take it," she covered, thankful for the excuse provided by the needle. She could feel the heat of his hands as he worked on the wound and tired to concentrate on the rock formation she was facing. The awkward silence that ensued was palpable, both acutely aware of each contact of skin on skin.

"There. Done," he announced as he finished off the last stitch. Victoire turned around and saw that Griffin didn't seem to need any more ministering. She looked down at her hands and was momentarily surprised at finding them covered in blood before remembering why.

"How about a towel and some water?" she asked, holding up her hands to show her intent.

"Sure thing," he replied disappearing into the depths of the lair and coming back with an already grubby towel and a bowl of water.

"Where are we anyway?" Victoire asked as she dipped her hands in the bowl and watched the water turn crimson.

"The Sahara," Griffin answered.

"And you found a cave in the middle of the desert? Don't you find that a little conspicuous?"

Griffin shrugged, "They haven't killed me yet."

Victoire nodded in agreement and dipped a corner of the towel in the bowl and started wiping her face. The towel soon became saturated with red; both blood and chunks of flesh.

"Wow. I really sliced that guy, didn't I?" she smiled proudly showing Griffin the towel.

Griffin looked at her a little worriedly. Should she really be that happy about it? But who was he to judge? He had done some pretty nasty things as well. He noticed that she had been starting to relax, sitting cross-legged on the couch; head leaned back with her eyes closed.

He went over to sit next to her but not before turning on his Xbox and inserting the latest version of Call of Duty: anything to keep him distracted from the woman on his couch.

Victoire opened her eyes to see Griffin selecting his saved game. She used the opportunity to study him. He had taken off his jacket and his shoes and socks and was viciously punching buttons on his controller. He could have been any ordinary twenty-something gamer just chilling in his living room. It was odd how life went. She supposed it was how one kept one's sanity: by pretending life was normal. She didn't have a hobby. She had tried becoming an avid reader. That was too boring. She tried snowboarding but that turned out to be hazardous to the others on the hill. She had experimented with hunting and while she found she rather liked it, it didn't give her that same rush as killing a Paladin. She hated herself for it. She knew people – apart from psychopaths – would never kill another human being out of pleasure and if they did, it would have left them feeling guilty. Then again she knew she would never be normal. Maybe she was a psychopath.

"Do you enjoy killing?" Victoire asked, watching a Griffin killed an enemy on screen.

"It lets me live to fight another day," he stated.

"I know, but do you _like_ it?"

"Never really thought about it," he said. She could tell he was lying. Every Jumper has had to come to terms with their lifestyle, be it killing or running away.

"I think there's something wrong with me," she said matter-of-factly, staring up at the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. "I enjoy the rush of adrenaline, the look of the life leaving their eyes, torturing them until they beg for death…" she trailed off looking down at her hands that were wringing themselves of their own accord.

She looked over as no answer came from Griffin; he was still staring at the screen, mashing buttons. She grew annoyed. She was trying to have a conversation with him and he was just playing a stupid game.

Griffin realized the vulnerability of her current situation, putting that statement out there like she had. _Don't look at her_, he told himself over and over. _DO NOT look at her! _He concentrated harder than ever before while killing enemy soldiers.

"I'm trying to talk to you here!" she growled at him, jumping to her feet and walking back over to the board full of Paladins. "It wouldn't hurt you to talk to someone once in a while you damn hermit." Her anger had flared up despite her wanting it to. She had just shared something personal about herself and he had ignored her, she knew he wouldn't care but it hurt all the same. Anger let her cope with the sting of rejection that she felt. She was even angrier because she knew she had no reason to feel rejected: it's not like he had asked her to share anything, after all. She had stupidly let her guard down for a brief moment and look where that had gotten her. It was always the same story.

Despite Griffin's better judgment, his fingers moved of their own accord as he pushed pause on his controller and he got up to face her. He couldn't help thinking of how sexy she was when she was angry.

"Why do we have to talk about anything at all?" he growled back, "We were doing just fine here until you opened your mouth."

Insulted and angry that she couldn't think of a good retort so she ended up using, "Fuck you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you," he replied with 'snarky' being his default setting.

Actually, she probably would. She made a disgusted sound. "As if you'd be any good," she smirked, getting closer to him deliberately slowly.

"But I'd bet you're dying to find out," he taunted.

She came as close as she dared and hooked a hand behind his neck and pulled his face close to hers. She put her mouth next to his ear, "Please. You wouldn't be able to keep up."

She quickly Jumped to pick up her jacket and Jumped away to Melbourne before she did something she was going to regret like taking Griffin right then and there. She slipped on her leather jacket and looked down to see she was still in the boxers Griffin had let her borrow. She had left her pants in his damned cave. _Shit_, she thought, _I loved those pants._

Griffin quickly exhaled and looked at the ceiling of his lair. Why did she have to go and mess everything up? They were having a nice relaxing moment for a bit. _This_ was why he worked alone. Women were only a distraction. _You wouldn't be able to keep up_, she had said. He ran a hand over his eyes. She was such a tease and damn but he liked it! He opened his eyes and saw her pants lying over the back of his couch. He ignored them and decided that he needed some action of the non-Paladin variety. It was most likely spring break in America so Griffin decided to head to Florida. There would be plenty of willing ladies there.

Victoire was out looking for a bit of fun. While she mostly enjoyed exterminating Paladins, this was one of the things she tolerated best and it was long overdue. Before heading to the clubs of Melbourne, she opted to Jump to her current "residence" in Prague – a house owned by a wealthy family who were on vacation for several weeks cruising the Mediterranean (she did her research) – and found another pair of black pants. She chucked the boxers onto the bed and headed back to find a good club back in Australia.

She found her favourite club that played some great metal. Exactly what she wanted to hear. She Jumped into a stall in the ladies room to avoid paying the entry fee, hoping it wouldn't be occupied. _Wouldn't that be embarrassing?_ She thought wryly. She didn't much care at this point. Griffin frustrated her on so many levels. She walked out of the ladies room and scanned the pulsing mass of people on the dance floor. She walked over to the bar to get something strong. She downed her Vodka rocks quickly and head to the dance floor to grind with quite a few guys, losing herself in the angry guitar riffs, pulsing bass and pounding drums. After dancing with the fifth one, she realized that they all had something in common with Griffin: one had the messy hair, one had the leather jacket, and one was actually British. Go figure. Finally she thought _Why resist it?_ and picked up an Australian who looked uncannily similar to the one she really wanted and left with him on her arm.

Griffin woke up and looked at the girl asleep next to him in her hotel room. She had been alright but was willing to bet she was nothing like the way he imagined Victoire would be. This girl bore a physical resemblance to his Jumper which was why he picked her in the first place. He had convinced himself that he was only physically attracted to Victoire: he had always liked dark features. He quietly got up and got dressed and Jumped back to his lair still feeling lonely. This little episode had helped nothing at all. He still wanted Her. He raked a hand through his hair and flopped onto the chair at his work station. Maybe it was time for a little bit of good old-fashioned Paladin hunting.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Victoire sat biting her lip on the plush leather couch in her temporary residence thinking back to a month ago. That Aussie from the club was quite a dud and very disappointing. She had left early the day after. He had woken and sat up on the back seat of his car as she pulled on her pants. They hadn't even made it out of the parking lot of the club.

"Where did a sheila like you learn moves like that?" the Aussie asked her in awe as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. Victoire ignored his question and pulled on her leather jacket.

"It's been a pleasure," she lied as she stepped out of the car. The truth was she had been too busy trying not to picture Griffin that she hadn't enjoyed herself in the least. What a bust.

As she thought about that night, she had been toying with the boxers in her hands. She had washed them and debated on whether to return them to their rightful owner. She had even pinned a note to them stating they were clean. It was the decent thing to do and maybe, if she was honest with herself, she might run into him in his lair like she hoped. Before she could change her mind, she Jumped away to the Sahara.

As she landed in the lair, she quickly scanned the space and saw that Griffin was not there. Disappointed and yet relieved, she went over to the couch to lay the folded boxers in the place Griffin had occupied while he had played his video game. She took a brief moment to nose around. She really knew so little about him except that he had lost everyone he loved long ago and the fact that he was five for his first Jump. As she moved around the lair, she saw the organized mess that was his work space. Faces of nameless Paladins littered the table and nearby corkboard. None of the pictures really stood out to her until she saw the tattered and faded photograph posted at the top. She nearly missed it as it was being encroached on by pictures and fact sheets about various Paladin targets. She unpinned it from the board and studied it.

A young Griffin of around ten gazed out of the picture. She hadn't been sure it was him until she saw the eyes. They were completely his. What had thrown her off was the smile that reached them. Behind him was a man and a woman, no doubt his parents. Griffin definitely took after his mother with her blue eyes and short stature. Griffin's father was a kind looking man with greying hair. His hands on his son's shoulders and the relaxed body language of his pose reminded her of her own dearly departed father. They stood before a small house next to a real estate sign that said 'sold'. Not able to look at the happy family any longer, she turned it over. Neat printing on the back – definitely not Griffin's writing, maybe his mother's? – declared the picture was taken when Griffin was nine years old in Paradise Hills, San Diego. Despite the idyllic name of the neighborhood, Victoire spied iron bars on the windows. Feeling slightly depressed, she placed the photograph back in its place and covered it in the way she had found it.

She was about to leave when she saw her pants where she had left them on the back of his couch. Not only were they now folded but they looked clean of blood as well. She picked them up and saw that the gash in the calf had been stitched, noting that they were sewn in the same way as stitches. A warm sensation ran through her as she hugged the pants. He cared enough to wash and sew them for her? She couldn't think of a better explanation. She saw a scribbled note next to where the pants had lain. She picked it up only to find that everything was scratched out and illegible. She knew it was meant for her since she saw what could only be 'Victoire' scratched out at the top of the page. She cursed softly, really wishing she could read what he had written. She found a pen on his table, jotted 'Thank you' and placed it atop the boxers. She smiled and Jumped back home.

When Griffin had gotten back to his 'lair sweet lair', he noticed something was different. He immediately went on red alert and quickly ran his eyes across the perimeter. Satisfied that no one was there he relaxed a bit but knew something was still not right. He glanced at his couch and saw that the pants that had taken up residence there for the past month were no longer there. Slightly panicked, he rushed to the couch. What if Paladins had taken it to use as scent for bloodhounds? That would lead them to Victoire! But no, that was stupid. He took a few deep breaths and used logic. He had washed the pants so there wouldn't be her scent on them. If anything it would be his scent on them. Secondly, even if they did have a scent, they wouldn't be able to find her if she was in another country. Thirdly, if Paladins had found his lair, they would have staked it out and he'd already be dead. He could only conclude that Victoire had been there. _Victoire had been there._ He had missed her! He cursed loudly. He heaved a sigh and sat down on the couch. He felt something under him. He pulled out his boxers and read the note pinned to them: "These are clean". He smiled and saw the thank you written on the other rumpled piece of paper. He wondered if Victoire had been able to read what he had scratched out. He doubted it, the paper was pretty destroyed. He walked over to his board, looking over his more and more detailed drawings of Victoire. He had enough to have and entire section for her. Griffin wished he knew where to find her but she was keeping an incredibly low profile. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

It had been another four months since Victoire had gotten her pants back making it a grand total of five months since she had last seen Griffin. She constantly thought about him. For some unfathomable reason, she didn't hate him as much as she should have. He had never apologized. He had never spoken to her with care or affection. True, he _had_ salvaged her pants but maybe he was feeling like doing some arts and crafts and had decided to stitch up her pants to pass the time. Victoire shook her head and doubted that very much. She laughed at her conjured mental image of Griffin, glue-gun in hand, surrounded by Popsicle sticks and tubes of glitter. She wondered what he was doing now. No doubt hunting Paladins or playing his X-box. She didn't dare hope he had been thinking about her…

Victoire's head snapped to attention when she heard a door open and close across the street from her hiding spot in someone's shrubs. A young couple carrying luggage exited the house she had her eyes on. She watched with a mixture of jealousy and anger as they exchanged a kiss before loading their baggage into their car and driving off. She Jumped into their home and starting looking around. She glared at a side table full of pictures of the home owners; some together, some with friends, others with what she assumed was family. Anger welled up inside her for these people she'd never know. They had what she never would: someone to share their life with. She grabbed a glass picture frame and threw it against the fireplace where it shattered. Victoire shut her eyes and Jumped far away to the first place she thought of.

Opening her eyes, she found herself once again in Griffin's lair. Once again, he wasn't there. She flopped down on the couch and decided to wait for him. She needed to see a familiar face. She thought back to the last time she had seen him. It was after Jumping from Roland-hunting in South America. He had stitched her up, just like her pants. What if he didn't want her there? If he showed up things would no doubt be awkward after almost six months. Victoire cringed at that thought. Fighting a migraine, she kicked off her boots, laid down, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Griffin Jumped back to his lair. It was a sloppy Jump and he crashed into his table. His focus was completely gone. In his last fight he had only killed two. Two! It was an all-time personal worst. If only he had a way to find her. If only she Jumped back to his lair so he could see her! With what little focus he had left, he noticed boots laying near his couch. Those were definitely not his. He felt hope swell in his chest as he crept closer to the couch and peered over the back. Laying there was Victoire. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating from lack of sleep. He made his way around the couch and knelt in front of her sleeping form. He couldn't bear to wake her but just sitting there watching her was far too creepy. He grabbed his sketch pad to draw the sleeping beauty. He had so many drawings of her likeness but what was one more? He settled down in front of her, brushing a lock of her black hair away from her deceivingly innocent face.

As he made a rough draft, his logical side told him that this was insanely dangerous. A beauty mark next to her right eye – _you're too involved_. A hole in her sock – _you're getting attached_. Her long, slender fingers – _get rid of her!_

Just as he was shading the creases in her leather jacket she slowly opened her eyes. She furrowed her brows at her surroundings. She was on an ugly old couch sitting opposite a television but most importantly, there was Griffin facing her, deeply immersed in a piece of paper. He hadn't noticed she had woken yet. He would sporadically look up – presumably to either her jacket or her waist – and then look back down at his work. Victoire couldn't help but notice how endearing he looked. She also noticed he looked quite worse for wear. He had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for days and his hair was more dishevelled than usual. She couldn't fathom how the hands that were so adept at drawing gentle lines and creating dimension to a piece of paper were as equally adept at killing. Despite it all, he was beautiful. Just seeing him made her every nerve ache with want.

The thought that this might be a dream briefly crossed Victoire's mind but she dismissed it when she smelt the faintest trace of smoke that she had detected the first time she had been to the lair.

"Do you often draw people when they're sleeping?" Victoire asked. Griffin jumped at the sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the Saharan night.

"Shit. Look at that. You made me smudge your knee," Griffin grumbled good-naturedly and smiled at Victoire. She noticed how it was probably the first real smile he had offered her; not a smirk or a grin. She smiled back and thought how odd it felt – but it was a good odd – to use those facial muscles. It was strange how this meeting didn't feel awkward at all.

"Can I see it?" she ventured. Griffin looked slightly undecided but finally handed it over looking hesitant.

"Of course, it's just a rough draft…" he trailed off, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

Victoire mentally gasped at the drawing. This woman was beautiful. This looked nothing like her. None of her imperfections were present on the drawing.

"Do you like it?" Griffin asked after allowing her several minutes of silence.

Victoire looked back at him. "She's beautiful but… that's not me."

Griffin looked confused. "What do you mean? Of course it's you."

"No, look," she pointed out her paper eyebrow, "I should have a nasty scar there. And there," she indicated her paper nose, "it should be a bit crooked. She's also far too peaceful and innocent."

"I drew what I saw," he shrugged.

"You see me like this?" she asked quietly. Griffin nodded. "You think I look like this?" she said louder, her voice filled with unwanted emotions. There were both foreign and familiar emotions swirling within her. She felt anger at Griffin for portraying her in a way that she'd never be able to relate to. She felt jealousy for the look of peace on this woman's face, an innocence she'd never regain. Confusion as to how Griffin could possibly mistake a monster like her for a beauty the likes of which were in that drawing. She felt a longing; a longing to belong to someone. Someone who would love her enough to care whether she lived or died. Finally and most prominently she felt an all-consuming fear. In six months he had always been at the edge of her thoughts, if not at the very centre of them and... she was growing attached.

Victoire jumped up from her seat on the couch and began pacing the small distance between the couch and the fridge. She ran an agitated hand through her hair. Griffin had no idea what he'd done wrong. Could omitting a scar in her eyebrow really be so upsetting to her? He had never even noticed the slight crookedness of her nose. He saw her as the most beautiful and intriguing woman he'd ever had the fortune of meeting. He respected her and that was a rare thing for him.

"Hey. I'm sorry if I've offended you, Victoire," he got up grabbed her shoulders. She wouldn't look in his eyes. "I know this looks nothing like you. Every time I've drawn you it's an injustice. I'll never be able to capture your perfection." _Dear God, why am I telling her this?!_ Griffin thought. These pathetically tender words were just pouring out of him and he couldn't stop them. He _knew_ he shouldn't have read the latest Nicholas Sparks novel.

She looked up at him at this. Since when was Griffin such a romantic? And wait... had he really just called her perfect? This was too much. For so long she had lived as a slave to revenge. Hate had been her ever-present master. Now she didn't know what to feel so she just did what instinct told her to do.

She Jumped.

Griffin stood there dumbfounded. He had just poured out the most personal bit of information in decades and she leaves. He knew it. He _knew_ she would leave. He didn't know why he expected this time to be any different. They _always_ left. He would always be alone. He grabbed the corner of the nearest table and bashed it against the wall with a bellow. He was in the process of looking for something else to break when Victoire reappeared a couple of yards in front of him. She looked even less composed than when she had Jumped but something in her eyes was different. She quickly strode towards him, took his face in her hands and kissed him with everything she had.

Griffin found himself stunned a second time in as many minutes. It only took him a millisecond to figure out what the appropriate response was. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him while his other hand cradled her neck. It was as much pain as it was bliss. It was something neither of them had experienced before. Griffin could feel her shoulders shake as if she was holding back sobs so he kissed her more. He would have done anything to fix her. He stroked her jaw with his fingertips and moved to place kisses down her neck. She shook, only this time it was with pleasure. Every pent up emotion was being released and there was no way to stem the tide. Griffin ran his hands up Victoire's sides, up to her shoulders and peeled off her leather jacket and kissed her exposed collarbone. Victoire threw caution to the wind and leant her head back with a small moan. She wanted him and she would have him.

When he pulled away Victoire let out a growl and griped the bottom of Griffin's shirt and tore it off over his head and threw it to the floor. She looked down at his bare chest and caught sight of all the scars bearing witness to all the fights he had participated in, both recent and old. She took a moment to look deep into his eyes emanating an understanding of the pain he'd felt then lowered her head to kiss as many wounds as she could find. Griffin buried his fingers in her hair, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could almost feel the newer wounds healing beneath her lips. As she made her way back up his torso his hands were searching for a way to remove the leather corset that was impeding the contact of his hands on her skin.

"What the hell are you doing?" Victoire whispered against his neck, surprised at how husky her voice had become.

"How in the bloody hell do you get this thing off?" he growled tugging at it.

She laughed and turned around to show him the clasps that fastened at the back. Griffin had never heard her laugh before. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. She moved her hair out of the way and put her hands on top of her head. Instead of feeling the corset loosening she felt Griffin's lips against her neck. She slid her hands around the back of his neck urging him to kiss her harder. He wound his arms around her waist and began roughly biting down on the base of her neck.

"Oh God Griffin, that feels amazing," Victoire breathed and arched her back encouraging Griffin to bite a bit harder earning him a cry of enjoyment from Victoire. _His Victoire_. "Quit teasing me and get this thing off of me!" she pleaded, indicating the corset. Without stopping his ministering to her neck he slowly, excruciatingly undid the clasps to her top. He tossed it aside and ran his hands over every inch he could reach.

He spun her around and looked at her with such an intense stare that it took her breath away. She looked behind her at the shabby cot in the corner.

"No offence but I think we need a bigger bed," Victoire noted, "We might kill yours."

"Got any better ideas?" he asked her while kissing her ear.

"I've got the perfect place. Hang on tight, tiger," she commanded before wrapping her legs around him and Jumping. She had never Jumped with another person before and so they landed and stumbled into a doorframe. They ended up in the house of the young couple that had left on vacation not all that long ago. The two fumbled their way through the house to the master bedroom. Victoire set her feet down on solid ground and roughly pushed Griffin down on the bed. She predatorily climbed over her man and attacked him with her mouth. All remaining clothing was soon disposed of, thrown carelessly to the floor, a taste of the carnage about to unfold. Griffin flipped Victoire onto her back as the panting of the intertwined bodies on the bed gave way to his groans and her cries uncaring and oblivious to any neighbours that might hear them. She had never experienced such pure and absolute ecstasy. He had never thought this kind of passion could possibly have come from within him: he thought he had lost it long ago. She was better than Griffin had ever imagined her to be. She was just the right mixture of aggression and vulnerability. Victoire found herself unable to stop from crying Griffin's name over and over as he moved above her, encouraging him to take her more violently.

As the pressure built within and between them, Victoire pushed Griffin's back into the bed and pinned him down, setting the pace as fast and as hard as she could. Finally, the fire bottled up within her burst free and flared through her veins as she collapsed next to Griffin. He wrapped his arms around her as they recovered from their sated, semi-comatose state. This was also a new feeling for them: both being so vulnerable in front of the other yet feeling safe at the same time. Yet, somewhere deep down, they knew that what they had done would have severe repercussions but in that moment, paradise was theirs.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Finally able to form coherent sentences after their hours of bliss, Victoire looked at the man lying next to her, fixing her face into an impassive expression. She had to tell him to biggest lie of her existence.

"You know that meant nothing, right?" It killed her to say it, knowing that the opposite was true – it had meant everything to her – but for her sanity as well as his, she pretended that this had just been a fling.

"Obviously," he said, looking back at her. Victoire held back a wince, knowing it was more than stupid to want him to tell her that he cared about her. At least now she knew what he felt towards her: nothing. What did she care anyways? She had gone through the same one-night stand with more men than she cared to remember so why should this time be any different? _Because you've never had a better lay and you care for him,_ her traitorous mind told her. She ignored it.

Griffin cursed to himself as he said that one word. _Obviously_. The most evil word in the English language as far as he was concerned. He couldn't believe he had just said that. What had possessed him to lie to her after what they had just shared? He had wanted to tell her he cared about her, that she could share his lair with him. At least Victoire hadn't looked hurt. This was all for the best anyway. It was a fantasy to believe that they could somehow be together. Griffin hated his life more passionately than he ever had before. What was worse was that he hadn't even lost her yet. He knew it was only a matter of time before either of them got killed. He couldn't bear the thought of it and didn't want Victoire to see his traitorous face so he rolled over to grab whatever discarded clothes he could reach.

Just as he had grabbed his boxers and put them on, he caught a glimpse of the framed photograph on the bedside table. He knew that girl from somewhere. Had he slept with her? Possibly. But then, he would have known the man beside her anywhere. _David Rice_.

His jaw dropped. So David was still miraculously alive along with his precious girlfriend. How was that even possible? He rolled back over to see Victoire had put on her pants and made a lighting quick Jump to the lair and back, for her top doing up the fastenings.

She sighed and rooted around for her boots. Before she could slip them on, she saw Griffin's face.

"What's wrong?" Victoire's depressed mood disappeared at Griffin's shocked face.

"Whose house is this?" Griffin whispered.

"No idea. Some annoying, lovey-dovey couple who're gone on holidays," she shrugged.

At that moment, they heard a key in the lock, the front door swing open followed by the voices of a man and a woman.

"I can't believe you forgot the airplane tickets!" the woman laughed.

"Hey, usually I don't need them! You know I can't Jump anywhere now that they're tracking me," said the man.

_Amazing,_ Griffin thought, _the wanker has learnt at least one thing since I last saw him._

_This is a Jumpers house?_ Victoire thought, thinking how odd and incredibly stupid it was for a Jumper to have a home and a girlfriend. Not to mention they were about to go on vacation! What Jumper did that?

"They're on the bedside table," the man said, as he walked through the open door only to find Griffin next to his bed (mercifully clothed from the waist down) and an unknown woman standing next to him, looking surprised.

"Well, hello there David," Griffin said in a mocking tone, "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Griffin?!" David looked shocked. "What the hell are you doing in my room? How did you get out of that tower?"

"Tower?" Victoire quirked an eyebrow. "Do you two know each other?"

Griffin glanced at Victoire briefly but kept his eyes trained on David to explain. "Dear David here left me to die in an electricity tower in Chechnya to stop me from thwarting his plan to save his girlfriend."

"David? Who are you talk –" Millie stopped short in the bedroom doorway when she saw Griffin.

David placed himself in front of Millie as he looked more than a bit scared upon hearing Griffin's dangerous tone.

"He left you to _die_?" Victoire repeated, eyes narrowing dangerously at David.

"Look, I couldn't let you kill Millie..." David trailed off to indicate his girlfriend, "And who the hell is she?" he looked at Victoire.

"_She_ is about to kick your ass," Victoire declared. Before he could move she was before him and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach. Griffin felt a great satisfaction at that although he would have enjoyed it even more had it been him to deliver the blow. Still, he felt some pride at her actions and some surprise at the sudden display of aggression.

"And how are you doing Millie?" he asked, smiling in a sarcastic way.

"Don't you dare touch her," David groaned, still doubled over. While still hunched over, his gaze shifted from Griffin to Victoire and almost laughed with realization.

"Is she your girlfriend?" David wheezed, gesturing to a still fuming Victoire.

"No," Griffin and Victoire answered in unison.

Then it seemed that Millie noticed the rumpled bedding.

"Oh ew!" Millie squealed, "That's disg–" she was cut off by Victoire's piercing glare fixed on her. She shrank back behind David with a squeak of fear.

"Tell me Griffin, would you blow up your girlfriend to kill Roland?" David growled, seemingly having regained a bit of his confidence after the initial shock.

"You bet he would!" Victoire answered for him, really believing it. She knew Griffin didn't care for her anyway. "And I'd do the same to him," she added just to intimidate this David character, knowing that she would never be able to if it came down to it. "Although, I'd have a much easier time blowing _you_ up instead," she shrugged, "I've killed so many men. What's one more?" David looked a little less confident again. She chanced a glance to her side and swore she saw Griffin wearing a look of pride.

"Look, just get out of my house," David sighed.

"Fine," Griffin agreed.

Just as Griffin was about to Jump, he took the time to quickly bitch-slap David in lieu of goodbye. Without sparing David and Millie a glance, Victoire followed through his jumpscar.

Hurrying to David's side, Millie muttered, "They are _so_ together."

Victoire landed back at Griffin's lair. She warily watched the jumpscar to make sure David didn't follow. If he did, she had enough irritation left to give him a few more injuries. Maybe a bit of internal bleeding just for good measure.

As she contemplated what had just happened and what she would do to David should she ever see him again, she noticed a strange feeling in the air. A sort of awkward tension. Her head snapped up and whipped around to see if anyone had invaded Griffin's sanctuary. She saw nothing odd or out of place; only Griffin pulling on his discarded shirt and his few meagre possessions. She observed Griffin's back as he was tidying up his work space and saw the muscles beneath his shirt looked tense, as if he was expecting an attack of some sort.

Victoire frowned. "Hey. You okay? You seem kind of...tense."

"It's nothing," Griffin snapped.

Comprehension seemed to dawn on the female Jumper. "Well shit. Are we going to be all awkward now? Just because we slept together?"

"There is no 'we'. I'm not even sure why you're still here," he shrugged, still shuffling some papers on his desk.

Victoire was glad he wasn't looking at her because she was fairly sure her jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm no stranger to one night stands but you're _actually_ kicking me out? Are you really not mature enough to handle this?"

Griffin turned around and stared her dead in the eye. "Look, I got what I wanted from you. You're really of no use to me anymore." His tone was of complete flippancy.

_So that's how it is, is it?_ Victoire thought. She wasn't all that surprised, although that's not to say she wasn't hurt by it. She'd been used so many times but every time it happened, the sting of rejection was always there. It was usually just a blow to her ego but this time it felt different; worse somehow. She fooled herself into believing the impossible. She thought that maybe this time everything would be different. She would have gained a partner and a reliable lover. No such luck.

"Fine," Victoire announced, and just to get the last word she added, "Oh, and by the way, you're a lousy lay."

It was a blatant lie and a bit of a low blow but Victoire couldn't bring herself to care. He wounded her so she, hopefully, had wounded him.

She Jumped off to Tibet before he could see the hurt in her eyes.

Griffin couldn't believe the shit coming out of his mouth. She was of no use to him anymore?! Where had that come from? Why did he send her away? She could have stayed. Instead, he reverted to his knee-jerk reaction of pushing her away.

The whole thing was his fault anyway. He had brought this on himself when he suggested the Marvel Team-Up. David fucking Rice had put that idea in his head. Nothing useful _ever_ came out of that guy's mouth. Maybe he could anonymously tip off the Paladin's about Rice's residence. He shook his head at that right away. David may be a world-class wanker but Griffin refused to sink to the level of a snitch.

He might have felt better if he believed Victoire could find some nice guy to settle down with. Maybe raise a family. The thought caused an actual ache inside him so he nipped that idea in the bud. Besides, Victoire raising a family? Ha! He knew she could never refuse the temptation of killing Paladins. She thrived on the adrenalin rush it gave her. He knew because he thrived off it too.

_The two most wanted Jumpers only makes for a bigger target,_ he reasoned to himself. Roland would surely find them in a heartbeat if they stuck together. Being apart was the only way to keep her relatively safe. He nodded to his empty lair. This was for the best.

Griffin abandoned all pretense of cleaning up his desk and flopped down onto his couch, replaying their shared moment of passion. That had been the best fuck he'd ever had. _By far_. And she dared to call him a 'lousy lay'! He had given her all his best moves and from the sounds she was making, he seriously doubted she believed what she said. He swore that if he ever met her again, he would make her see that _she_ was the one who couldn't keep up.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Any part of Victoire's heart that might have been melted by the heat shared between her and Griffin had hardened again after his dismissal of her. He could rot in Hell for all she cared. The only thing left for her was killing Roland. She made it her personal mission to beat Griffin to the punch and take away the satisfaction he would get out of killing him. Not to mention that she would enjoy Roland's death at her hands immensely. She smiled to herself as she visited Florence and its exhibit on torture through the ages.

As she wondered where she could get her hands on an Iron Maiden of Nuremberg, she saw a flash of white hair on a black man. Could it be? Though the exhibit was crowded, she wound her way through the throngs of people, following the man. She was extra vigilant: if this was Roland then this was most likely a trap. He turned his head minutely and Victoire was certain that this was her quarry.

It was as she rounded a corner that another unmistakable head of messy hair appeared a few feet in front of her. _Griffin_. She growled under her breath and earned a few wary glances from the people closest to her. They edged away. It appeared the Brit hadn't seen her as she crept closer and closer to him. She was close enough that she caught the familiar scent of his lair that clung to him – mostly that of a camp fire – and a pang went through her. Her short-lived longing was quickly replaced with rage. How _dare_ he try to take away her pleasure at attempted murder?

She was almost directly behind him when he whirled around and grabbed her by her forearms. To an outsider it probably looked like a friendly embrace but in reality, Griffin clutched her arms in a death grip. When he realized who he had in his arms, he loosed his hold on her but just enough so that she wouldn't have bruises.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I think we both know what we're doing here," she retorted. She kept glancing away to keep track of Roland's movements.

"This is _my_ kill, not yours," Griffin growled.

"I think not," she scoffed, "Besides, I got here first," Victoire argued.

"Yeah. Real mature argument you've got there," he sneered.

"Let me go! He's getting away!" Victoire hissed and jerked to get free.

"Don't think I'm about to let you get Roland, sweetheart."

"You're such an ass! Do you know how long I've been looking for him?"

"Cry me a river," he rolled his eyes. Victoire could barely see Roland anymore; she had to get away. She used the element of surprise to try and free herself. She kissed Griffin hard. As he released her arms in shock, she sprinted away through the crowd.

Griffin cursed, earning a glare from an elderly woman, and took off after Victoire. Roland was _his_ prize; he was sure he had wanted to kill Roland long before Victoire had. Besides, as number one on the Paladin's most wanted list, it was his _right_ to end the man's life.

Victoire felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that always accompanied a chase. She relished the thundering of her heart and the burn that would soon be felt in her lungs and legs. As her eyes darted around frantically in search of Roland, she saw a door swing shut just under a red, illuminated sign reading '_uscita_'. Her Italian was limited to '_ciao'_ and '_muori'_, meaning 'die', but it seemed a safe bet to say that this was an exit door. She burst through to find herself on a deserted cobbled street hardly more than a shadowy back alley. She swung her head left and right, trying to decide which way to go. To her left the alley continued on for some way and she couldn't tell where it ended while to her right the alley ran for several meters before opening up onto a public square. Victoire took a deep breath and sprinted towards the right.

Griffin ran only to find himself at a dead end in the exhibit. He could no longer see Victoire or Roland. He growled and doubled back to the entrance of the building, exiting into the square. He figured it was around lunch as the public space was bustling with tourists clutching cameras and over-priced gelato, taking in the warm summer air. Directly ahead across the square was an imposing church. He grimaced. It would be just like Roland to be visiting a church. _Maybe he's attending a convention of the Florentine chapter of Paladins complete with finger foods and a complementary glass of pinot grigio, _Griffin thought wryly. He wouldn't have been surprised. He stalked off towards the huge, yawning doors in the off-chance that Roland was hidden somewhere inside. He wouldn't leave until he had searched right down to the last confessional. Maybe, if he were very lucky, Griffin would have a murder to add to his list of unrepentant sins.

Pausing at the juncture between the alley and the square, Victoire caught sight of Griffin entering the imposing church. She narrowed her eyes. Had Griffin seen Roland go in? Should she go after him? No, she refused to enter a church. She had become a devout atheist the night her parents died. Should she just fall back and work on predicting Roland's next location? _I was so close! Of course he had to slip through my fingers because of Griffin_, she seethed. First on her hit-list came Roland followed shortly after by Griffin.

She scanned the milling crowd for any clue as to where Roland may have gone other than the holy building. A few minutes had passed and she was about to Jump home when a few cries of alarm were heard. Victoire looked to the source of the noise and saw a black man with white hair bounding out a side door of the church, pushing people out of the way. He was followed by a younger man with rebellious hair and a black leather jacket.

Victoire took off at a sprint and saw Griffin tackle Roland. Before the pair could hit the ground, they disappeared. They had Jumped. In dismay, Victoire increased her speed. The minute it took to get to the Jumpscar had wasted precious time and she cursed herself for not having Jumped to the place they had been. She finally reached the spot where her two enemies had disappeared and, without pausing, she leapt through the Jumpscar.

She landed in an empty section of the Hagia Sophia. She was in Istanbul. She was about to pass through the first Jumpscar she saw before pausing. She caught sight of four more Jumpscars in the vicinity. _That bastard!_ Victoire raged, holding back her scream of frustration. Griffin had had enough time to Jump several times, each presumably to a different location and back to the same room in the Hagia Sophia in an attempt to thwart Victoire. It was working. Victoire had to choose a Jumpscar before it faded and she only had the time to pick one. If it was the right one, she would follow the trail to find Griffin and Roland. If she picked the wrong one, it would be a dead end and the rest of the Jumpscars would have faded away.

Going on blind luck, Victoire chose the second one from the left. She landed in what appeared to be a disused morgue. There were no more Jumpscars in sight. She vaguely wondered in Griffin chose this spot for the obvious pun of 'dead end' and as a means to rub salt in the wound. In a last ditch effort, Victoire Jumped back to the room she had just left at the Hagia Sophia. The Jumpscars were gone; the trail had gone cold. Victoire dropped to her knees and screamed.

Griffin landed at his final destination: the decaying living room of a small abandoned house in Paradise Hills in southeast San Diego. It was an awful neighborhood to have lived in; full of gangs, homicides and drug dealers, but Griffin had called it home at the age of nine. This spot held special meaning for him. This was where his parents had died. This was where Roland had destroyed Griffin's childhood and, by extension, his life. This would be the end of the line for Roland too.

A brief struggle ensued as he knew it would. He knew Roland Cox would not go down without a fight. Griffin grabbed a broken table leg that he found on the floor and bashed Roland over the head several times. Even after Roland was out cold, Griffin kicked him in the gut a few times. His nemesis would feel that once he regained consciousness.

Once Roland had been secured to a chair with left-over crime scene tape that blocked the door to the basement, he waited a moment to see if Victoire had chosen the right Jumpscar. After ten minutes, Griffin was sure that his ruse had worked. He felt a twinge of guilt. They would have finished him off together had he not fucked up after the best night of his life when he had told Victoire to get lost. He pushed the feeling aside. After all, this was _Roland. _This was the kill that he had longed for and fantasized over his whole life. The hour of death was at hand and this was worth more than anything.

_Not more than Victoire_, his traitorous mind taunted.

He silenced the voice in his head and leaned casually against the wall, waiting for Roland to wake up. Getting to him in the church had been easier than expected. Griffin was sure Roland knew he was being tracked but it appeared he did not as he was stalked through the pews. Griffin had been on high alert then. It had to be a trap. There would be no other reason that Roland was leading him to the sacristy at the back of the church unwittingly.

His presumption of a trap had turned out to be wrong after all. Roland really had no idea he was being followed because he had his mind on a more important task. Roland had received reports of a ten year old Jumper in Florence. He had been following the boy for a week. The Paladin had smiled when he had seen the boy run into the church. _How fitting_. As he saw the boy on his knees praying, he heard angry footsteps behind him. Before he could unsheathe his knife, he was attacked by none other than Griffin O'Connor. That spawn of Satan had found him and he hadn't even realized. After a momentary tussle wherein Griffin had told the young boy to run, Roland broke free and took off to the exit on the left of the church. Griffin had followed and tackled him, preventing him drawing his dagger. As he struggled and cursed the man that held him in a vice grip, he realized with utmost disgust that he was being dragged through Jumpscars left and right.

_So this is what it feels like to be the devil_, he thought. Shortly after, he peered at his location by the light of high-set windows and a bare light bulb hanging from the beams above him. He assumed his destination was what appeared to be the basement of a crack house. After a brief fight – it really wasn't fair as he didn't have his wits about him after the roller coaster ride from hell – he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and his world faded to black.

Victoire didn't know what to do. She still knelt in the Hagia Sophia where she had been defeated by Griffin. She knew Griffin would kill Roland and he wouldn't waste his time. The all-consuming despair she had felt about losing Roland was clouding her thought process and she felt mental exhaustion take over her brain. After she had screamed, a Turkish caretaker at the basilica had burst into the room she was in as fast as his legs and cane could carry him. From her kneeling positing, she lied that she had tripped and fallen but that she was fine. She refused his offer of calling for an ambulance and kept reassuring the man that she was perfectly okay until he left the room. And there she still sat.

The old man's entrance had turned out to be the distraction her head needed to clear itself. The despair she had felt before ebbed and she realized she was in a church; or was it a mosque? From the room she was in, she wasn't quite sure. Victoire heaved herself to her feet, knees aching from resting for so long on the cold stone floor, and crept to the door. She peeked out to see the vast enormity of the main gilded, domed chamber. She couldn't remember the last time she had been in a place of worship and the thought of being in one made her uneasy. Despite that, she marveled at the way the architect had made the dome look like it was floating on fragile panes of glass. The entire area was crowded with tourists and saw one particular group following a guide. She realized that the site was now a museum and she felt a bit more at ease. She would have gladly followed the tour but she knew she had a more serious mission on her hands. She had to find Griffin and Roland.

Victoire racked her brains for a place that Griffin would take Roland to kill him. It had to be somewhere where there was privacy and no chance of being discovered too quickly. Griffin would surely want to gloat before ending him. It would also have some sort of significance to the Brit. Somewhere in Britain then? If he had that accent, he must have grown up there. Walking out of the Hagia Sophia, Victoire ran a hand through her hair in frustration. _He could be anywhere! _ she silently lamented.

That's when she saw it. A tourist was entering the basilica and he sported not only a baseball cap with a stylized 'SD' on it but a tee shirt emblazoned with the same logo as the hat and read San Diego Padres. _San Diego. _Her mind immediately recalled the picture she had seen long ago at Griffin's lair of a young boy with his parents in front of a shabby-looking house. Her mind also showed her a clip of a conversation in a South American cave around a flickering fire. _"I was five when I first Jumped. Everyone around me got murdered four years later," _Griffin had told her. It didn't take long for her to connect the dots. The picture she had found said that Griffin was nine years old at the time at a home in Paradise Hills in southeast San Diego and the snippet he had shared with her about his past placed the death of his parents at the age of nine.

There was no guarantee that the home in the picture was exactly where his parents died but it was her best bet. Unfortunately, she had never been to Southeast San Diego so she couldn't Jump there right away. She _had_ surfed at Trestles at San Onofre before, back when she had hooked up with a Californian surfer, so that's where she Jumped. She ran to a major road and flagged down a taxi, demanding to get to the neighborhood of Paradise Hills as fast as possible. Despite her driver obligingly exceeding the speed limit, the ensuing ride took 45 minutes and frustrated Victoire to no end. Roland might already be dead for all she knew!

She cursed the rule that one couldn't Jump to a place seen only in a picture. As she had never physically seen Griffin's old house, she had to travel there the way ordinary people did. _Is this the way Roland feels all the time?_ she wondered, inhaling the smells and eyeing the stains of dubious origins on the back seat of the taxi._ No wonder he hates Jumpers! The guy must be jet-lagged all the time with all the travelling he has to do._ Exerting an incredible amount of self control lest she implode, she finally made it to Paradise Hills and started running down streets, looking for the one in the photograph.

At last, she finally found the house she had been searching for. Time had changed it but little though it was slightly worse for wear with the peeling and cracking paint on the vinyl siding and weeds clawing their way through the cracked pavement of the driveway. Victoire crept her way to the front door hanging half of its hinges. Leaning over the rusted banister on the front steps, she peered into the window and glimpsed what must have been the living room once upon a time. It was empty. Instead of risking possible creaking from the half-hinged door, Victoire Jumped into the living room.

She stood stock still, straining to hear any noise signalling the presence of Griffin and Roland. Just as she feared she might be in the wrong house, she heard what sounded like laboured breathing coming from below. She had to creep around for a bit, avoiding strewn used needled and other drug paraphernalia, until she found the door in the sickly yellow kitchen that led to the steps to the basement. She started her trek down the dilapidated stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

As Griffin kept watch over his prisoner, two things happened in quick succession. Roland took some loud ragged breaths as he regained consciousness and the heard the steps to the basement creak. He recalled how the top two steps had always creaked whenever he tried to quietly sneak downstairs to watch some TV after his bedtime. He could tell it was only one person so he very much doubted it was the Paladins. Still, he positioned himself in a shadowy corner so as not to be taken by surprise from behind. He watched the exposed staircase as feet appeared.

His mouth hung slightly open as Her boots slowly crept down the stairs followed by her black-clad legs with the stitching repairs he had made to them long ago. She had found him. He had no idea how in the hell she had known where to find him yet here she was.

She finally stepped onto the cracked cement floor and stopped short as she saw Roland tied to a chair and struggling to fully wake up. She instantly sensed a presence and knew Griffin was still there.

"Stop lurking in the shadows and show yourself, you coward," she stated in a monotone.

"Stop being such a cow and maybe I will," his disembodied voice came from the corner. Victoire smiled and faced said corner. She had missed his sass. After a few beats, Griffin stepped into the meagre light of the basement light bulb. The sun had set long ago and provided no light even through the broken panes of glass.

Roland gave a groan and glared at them. Neither Jumper looked at him as he spoke up. "Did you really think –"

"What I want to know," Victoire cut Roland off, still staring at Griffin, "Is why you think you're entitled to end this fucker's life."

"He killed my parents," Griffin growled, still keeping his eyes on Victoire.

"He killed mine too."

"I've wanted to kill him longer than you."

"I've wanted to kill him _more_ than you."

Griffin scoffed. "I highly doubt that."

Victoire crossed her arms, angling herself between Griffin and Roland. Her body language initiated a silent dare to Griffin resulting in a stare down.

Victoire finally yielded and sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Look, all I want to do is inflict some serious pain. If you want to kill him, you can but _only_ after I've finished with him."

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm only the one you're going to murder in cold blood," Roland muttered. The Jumpers ignored him.

Victoire could tell Griffin was weighing his options. On the one hand, he could just kill Roland, be done with it and let Victoire vent her disappointment. She would get over it. On the other hand, he could let her torture Roland to the breaking point and he could finish him off. He had no intention to torture Roland; that wasn't his style but as long as he was conscious, Griffin would still be able to see the light leave his enemy's eyes as he killed him.

"Fine," Griffin acquiesced, "But don't you dare land the killing blow or I will _end_ you."

"Fair enough." The pair shook hands.

Griffin took to leaning against the wall again to watch the show. Even thought he was slightly disturbed at her love of torture, he loved watching his woman do her thing. Of course, if she got carried away, he would be there to stop her.

Victoire advanced on Roland and searched him first. She found nothing on his person except the hunting knife sheathed in silk that he used to kill Jumpers. It was exactly the same as the one he had lodged in her leg in Aspen. She peered at the knife and saw trace amounts of dried blood from some poor soul who hadn't been lucky enough to avoid Roland Cox. She fixed her cold, dead eyes on the man who had killed her parents and then tried to kill her.

"Do you really think killing me will solve anything?" Roland sneered.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I'm willing to try anything right now," Victoire smiled innocently, "Then again, _I'm_ not going to be the one to kill you, darling."

"Even if I die, others will rise to hunt you down like the demons you are. The Lord shall strike you down as He does with heretics and killers. _'But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur'_." As he recited Scripture, Roland surreptitiously struggled with his bonds.

"Jesus Christ," Victoire turned to Griffin, "The amount of bullshit that comes out of this asshole's mouth is astounding."

Griffin smirked. "The next thing you know he'll be spouting shit like 'love thy neighbour' and 'thou shalt not kill'." Victoire giggled.

Victoire took Roland's knife and quickly stepped up to him. "Scream for me, gorgeous," she whispered. She grabbed his ear and quickly sliced it off as close to the skull as possible. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound and Victoire tossed the ear behind her casually. To his credit, Roland only gave a muffled groan through gritted teeth.

"Turn the other cheek, Mr. Cox," she said cheerfully. Victoire circled him and performed the same act on his remaining ear. The resulting sound issuing from Roland was only slightly more pleasing but he still wasn't screaming. Victoire glared.

"Maybe I should take the nose. You won't need it anyway." She sliced the knife down the front of his face and took the nose with it. This time, Roland screamed. Victoire threw her head back and cried out with delight.

As she continued to remove body parts she deemed unnecessary, Griffin looked on with morbid fascination. Roland was now writhing in pain and was covered in blood while Victoire seemed to be getting off. Griffin was getting turned on and by God, this was _not_ a good time. Trying to compose himself, he paced a little ways into the darkened basement.

Roland sensed through the cloud of pain that his attempts at freeing himself were nearing success. He needed to work fast; he was losing feeling in his fingers. From what he could feel, the plastic crime scene tape was stretching just enough to let him free his hands.

Without warning, Roland launched himself at Victoire, tackling her. The hunting knife skidded across the floor and Victoire's head struck the concrete with a sickening crack. Before Griffin could even react, Roland had dragged Victoire by the hair so that he was close enough to regain the knife. He was using Victoire as a shield and held the knife edge to her throat; hard enough to cause blood to bead on the edge of the blade. It mingled with the blood that continued to pour out of his mutilated face. Before Victoire's dazed mind could process what had happened and thereby Jump out of his grip, Roland had moved them both to the wall where an electrical socket was exposed. The Paladin removed the blade from Victoire's throat and forcing her hand to grip it by placing his own hand around hers, careful not to make contact with the metal. He thrust the blade into the socket and an electrical current ran through Victoire making it impossible for her to Jump.

Griffin cursed. How had he let this happen?! He had let his guard down and now Victoire's life was in jeopardy.

Victoire refused to cry out as her muscles spasms made her body quake.

"Griffin, save yourself for Christ's sake!" she ground out while trying to jerk herself out of Roland's iron grip.

"It's you or her," Roland stated, looking rather pleased with himself. "Let's see how noble you really are."

Victoire knew it was all over. She knew Griffin would throw her under the bus any day just to have a go at Roland. Her only regret was that she never told him she loved him and how much he meant to her. She had been so alone for almost a decade except when she was with him.

"You bastard," Griffin growled. He could easily save himself and Jump away but as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he nixed it. He couldn't leave Victoire alone with Roland; it would be signing her death warrant and her blood would be on his hands. He would never be able to live with himself after that.

He was finally in a position to save someone he felt connected to, someone he cared about. He could easily Jump behind Roland and snap his neck. The only problem with that plan was that he would not get the satisfaction of seeing the life leave his eyes. He had come too far to kill him so simply. Did he love her enough to let go of his life-defining rage for Roland Cox?

What it really boiled down to was the question of who was more important to him: Victoire or Roland? Either choice would be so easy to execute. He had to make a decision.

"Let me go, Griffin," she said softly despite the tremors wracking her body.

Griffin looked once into Victoire's eyes and knew what he had to do. He Jumped behind Roland and snapped his nemesis' neck. He felt Roland's body go limp and sag to the floor. Victoire fell on top of the Paladin in exhaustion, her nerves nearly fried. She looked up at Griffin with unfocused eyes. He knelt beside her and the eyes he loved rolled up into her head as she passed out.

Victoire woke to the sound of a heart-rate monitor and the pungent smell of antiseptic. Ugh. She was in a hospital. Almost immediately, she recalled the events that had led her to this moment. How Griffin had given up his life-long pursuit of dealing Roland a slow and painful death in order to save her. And yet she had been so certain that he would give her up only to kill Roland at a later date.

The hospital room was dark with nothing but the dim light of the moon filtering through the windows. Victoire sat up, feeling mildly dizzy and a little nauseous but otherwise fine. She pulled the IV out of her arm and the heart monitor off her finger causing a flat line to register on the machine. She leant towards the end of her bed to grab the chart. She understood very little as it seemed to be in Russian. She couldn't even read the name she had been given. After sliding it back into the metal slot from where she had grabbed it, Victoire swung her legs over the side of the bed and found her clothes stashed under her bed. She drew the pastel striped curtains around her bed to get dressed; she wasn't going to change in a room full of other patients, awake or not.

She heard the door to the room open and quickly Jumped away to the place she identified as 'home'. She showed up in a familiar cave lovingly known as 'the lair'. She sat on the couch and waited for Griffin to come home.

When Griffin finally did come back, it was to find Victoire trying – and failing – to play Grand Theft Auto. She was making some noises of frustration and he smiled to hear it. He had been slightly worried when he had gone to check on her in the hospital only to find she'd vanished but it hadn't taken him long to figure out where she'd go. He was right. He coughed to make his presence known.

Victoire nearly jumped out of her skin and stood to face him, giving him a sheepish smile. In the background her forgotten avatar was easily nabbed by the police car chasing her. She was careful to keep the couch between them as a buffer. She didn't know how she should act or how he would welcome her, if at all.

"Uh, hi," Victoire said uneasily.

"Hi," came Griffin's brilliant reply.

"Did you bring me to the hospital?"

"Yeah. You passed out right after..." He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Right after you saved my life. Thanks for that, by the way," she gave a small smile. He shrugged but returned her smile. "Why did you save me?"

"Because you needed it," he shrugged again.

"Very true but you could have just left me there. I'd like to know why you didn't."

Griffin sighed. "I didn't want to get into this but...here goes: I honestly did think of leaving you at first. Don't give me that look," he chuckled, "I know that would be your first reaction too. It's why we've stayed alive for so long. Life expectancy of a Jumper is roughly 10 years old so every day we live we're defying the odds. The way I see it, I could save your life and kill Roland in a very anti-climactic way or I could let you die and kill Roland the way I've planned on doing it for most of my life.

"The reason I saved you is because even though I couldn't watch Roland die with the life leaving his eyes, it would have been a far worse fate to never again see the life in yours."

Overcome with the foreign feeling of love, Victoire silently rounded the couch and wrapped Griffin in her arms and he immediately reciprocated.

"The way I see it, you saved my life in that cave during the Paladin raid in South America and I saved yours. We're even," Griffin grinned.

"Fair enough." Victoire leaned against the back of the couch as Griffin stood before her, resting his forehead against hers.

"So I was wondering, did you want to stay here? With me?" Griffin asked her.

Victoire now felt elation. "Of course I'll stay here with you! But you should know that...I love you as much as my black little heart is capable of love. So if you can't handle that, then you can pretty much go to hell." She could only let her defenses down so much. She knew she couldn't ever let the down completely. Not even with Griffin.

"Yeah," Griffin smirked, "I figured you loved me. I mean, how could you not?"

Victoire smirked right back and punched him in the arm. "And you're okay with that?" she asked.

"Sure. After all, I kind of love you too. Just a little." But by the way he smiled at her, Victoire knew that he loved her as much as he could.

Both of them were too broken to love completely but they loved with all they had in them to give. Now, two years after the death of Roland, Victoire and Griffin had relocated to a different lair after having been discovered by a small Paladin group. A wandering tribe in the Sahara had ratted them out in return for some fine camels.

Despite that minor setback, the Jumpers lives remained virtually unchanged. They patched up each other's wounds, physically and emotionally as best they could. Some scars were deeper than others but at last they could take solace in the comfort of an identical soul. They were the same person, from their emotional baggage right down to the clothes they wore. Two distorted pieces of a whole. They found that living together proved to be a practical and enjoyable thing. They were partners in both work and play. And, while Victoire still enjoyed torturing her kills and Griffin preferred his own method of going in with guns blazing, they made it work.

They filled their days by tracking and killing the remaining pockets of Paladins. The organization seemed to be failing after the death of Roland and it became increasingly easier to hunt them down and finish them off. The main pockets of resistance were in America's Bible belt and in Vatican City where religious congregations excelled. But, as religious fervour seemed to be on the decline all over the world, the job got easier to handle. The fear of losing the other, while always at the back of their minds, was less present due to the lack of skill of their adversaries.

Of course, there was more to their life than work. Every now and then, Griffin would try to trap David Rice in an electrical tower just for sport and Victoire would give him a score based on planning, execution and originality.

Victoire had just finished with her shower and wrapped a towel around herself when she stopped dead as a strange thought occurred to her.

"Jesus Christ, Griffin, I don't even know your last name!" she laughed.

"Yeah. I don't know yours either. But who can think of last names when you're looking sexy as hell in that towel." Griffin sauntered over to her, obviously about to tug the towel away from her.

Victoire grabbed the collar of his standard black t-shirt and dragged him to the double bed they now shared (they had, in fact, destroyed the single cot Griffin used to have in his old lair. It hadn't lasted for even the shortest amount of rigorous activity). Victoire quickly had her man pinned beneath her and slid her hand up his shirt to rake her nails down his chest.

She looked down at him with dark, lust-filled eyes and whispered the four words that always promised a night of mind-bending sex:

"Scream for me, gorgeous."

He did.


End file.
